


vices and virgins (but neither applies to us)

by hoodislame (xieagle)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Bottom!Calum, M/M, Top!Michael, Waiter!Calum, and michael is having a crisis if you can call it that, boys in panties, business man!michael, but it's a slow burn just saying, by older i mean by like two years, calum's kind of sad too, halsey is pretty awesome in this, i'm not really sure what's going to be in this, it starts hot and heavy, it's just a little in the beginning, lashton is already together too, lashton is kind of minor tbh, older!michael, poor!calum, rich!michael, she's not in character but she's calum's best friend, so i'm just going to add as things come up, stripper!ashley, stripper!calum, student!calum, the real smut is going to come later, troubled!calum, waitress!ashley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-12 03:49:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5651428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xieagle/pseuds/hoodislame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Oddly enough, the music was a comfort to the young twenty-two year old who had almost literally just clocked out of his job across the city where he worked at a restaurant. Though he was by no means looking forward to going into the club to work himself just as hard as he had for the past eight hours, only to go back to his apartment to finish typing up a paper for his class due in two days - it wasn't like he had much of a choice. It was his life, and he just had to live with the punches and pressing forward as best he could.</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i>It was all he could do, at this point.</i></p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <b>Where Calum is a stripper living day by day, Michael is a rising business man who worries too much about work, and Ashton and Luke just want their friend to be happy.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the stardust in your lungs

**Author's Note:**

> hello! so this is a new fic that i'm starting  
> i'll try to get updates weekly, depending on everything  
> i have a lot in mind for this, so do expect this to be long
> 
> anyway, i'm super excited about this, and i do hope you like it!

Music in the modern world is so very common and taken for granted, Calum came to notice when he was still young. 

There's music on the radio; played in the background of restaurants, for example. There are too many examples to list, or even to think of. Yet, in each circumstance it is taken for granted. The music industry, as any person could assume, could very well be one of the most competitive and ultimately disappointing hot spots for an individual to find themselves. Just as with drugs, though, Calum knew first-hand that music was an addiction, if not better. He didn't have to inject it into his veins or shoot it in order to find a high. Anyone could be prosecuted for heroine, ecstasy, or crack. 

No one could or would think to go to court for someone finding a sense of euphoria by turning on their radio, flipping their television to a music channel, or going onto some music sharing website. Not unless it was, perhaps, a fictional small-town from the 80's with an unfortunate past. 

If anything, Calum Hood lived only because there was music in his life. Thick bass lines controlled most motions he made, which in turn decided whether or not he was going to go home to his disappointment of a residence with some sort of meal or not.

Said heavy beats welcomed him like an old friend even from outside of a brick building he had come to love to hate, a cigarette balanced precariously between his lips with smoke wafting from the end and his hands buried deep in the depths of the pockets in his sweatshirt. The material was thin, worn with age, and littered with holes. Still, it was his only protection from the biting breeze that signaled the daily death of the sun and the omnipresence of winter around them. The air pricked at the sensitive skin of his nose, neck, and ears while deafening music shook old bricks and rattled into his eardrums. 

Oddly enough, the music was a comfort to the young twenty-two year old who had almost literally just clocked out of his job across the city where he worked at a restaurant. Though he was by no means looking forward to going into the club to work himself just as hard as he had for the past eight hours, only to go back to his apartment to finish typing up a paper for his class due in two days - it wasn't like he had much of a choice. It was his life, and he just had to live with the punches and pressing forward as best he could.

It was all he could do, at this point. 

\--

The back door of the club was used mainly by the dancers who worked there, though it wasn't unheard of for some drug dealer to sneak through after making a deal, or for some poor slob who was too intoxicated to hold himself up to stumble through from nothing more than sheer drunken-stupidity. In either case, none of the dancers batted an eye or said anything, just continued on their lives. When going in, their minds were too preoccupied for hopes that they would be well-received and thus be given enough money to fill a pocket. On their way out, they were too preoccupied with dealing with extremes of emotion; be it happiness that they would have enough to pay over-due rent at least or the dollars needed to scrape together meals for the week, or be it dismay that they had fallen short of the mark, too tired to raise their own head to look up at some random who dared to pass through the dancer's door. 

The door was propped open by a small brick, cracked and broken from having been kicked, dropped, and so on time and time again when Calum approached, grabbing onto the latch like he had too many times before, stepping in quickly to seek refuge from the cold. 

When inside, he was hit with the familiar stench of alcohol, smoke, and a mixture of sweat and sex that he had come to wear like a cologne since he didn't have enough money to spare to buy a real scent. The music was significantly louder from the inside, and he made out the distinctive cry of several _whoops_ from voices deeper inside the club signaling that a dancer had either taken off their pants, if not in a further state of undress for the clientele to see. 

The watch on Calum's wrist read 11:47 when he spared it a glance, the broken glass covering the face blinking up at him when it reflected the artificially dim lights that came from the ceiling. _Time to get to work,_ he mused humorlessly to himself, ducking around a corner to where the dressing rooms for the dancers were hidden - for their own safety, Calum could only guess. No one wanted an overzealous visitor looking for an unpaid and private strip tease. 

A bag sat heavily on his shoulders and upon his entrance to the empty dressing room, he took his time to strip down to redress himself with what he had inside - seeing as he had thirteen, now twelve, minutes to get dressed and mentally prepare himself before he would ultimately be called upon by the owner to try to seek someone out. 

Calum hardly dabbled in solo public dances most nights. If anything, he'd go out on stage for a few minutes just to catch himself a bit of attention. Usually, that was all it took for someone to ask to have him in a private room for a little while. Then, just like with showering, it was lather, rinse, and repeat until the night slowed. If he didn't catch anything, then and only then he would find himself alone on stage with many more pairs of eyes staring him down; drinking him in.

It was about ten minutes until he was due to go out that a sound of heels against the hard floor came to his attention, sounding out many clicks over the music playing. "Cal! You didn't tell me you were coming tonight," a familiar voice chirped, prompting his chocolate eyes upward to catch with a pair of hazel ones. 

He straighten up from where he had been bent over, unlacing his worn and dirtied sneakers to flash Ashley a slight smile that didn't come close to reaching his eyes. "Well, I didn't think I had to," he mused earnestly, toeing his shoes off and pushing them aside. "It's Tuesday night."

He looked away, then, going to his bag to take out a pair of black pants, held together on the sides with Velcro so that he would be able to easily remove them when the time came. "Cal," Ashley spoke again, watching the raven-haired boy evenly. There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead that suggested she had just finished a dance, if her state was anything to judge by. Her shirt was held in one of her hands along with a pair of panties, leaving her in nothing more than a bra, a thong, and her heels. "Today's Wednesday - you don't ever dance on Wednesdays," she informed him, a sudden flash of concern filling her irises. "Maybe you should go home."

Time, for the boy, had never been an issue when he had been younger. He was the person people went to to asked what day it was during his high school years. With his struggles of juggling two jobs and trying to maintain passing grades in his university classes, his sense of passing days was abandoned entirely when he went days without sleeping. "You're kidding," he said, having paused his dressing completely, a pair of lace underwear held in hand, momentarily forgotten. 

"You know Brady will be surprised if you suddenly showed up. Just go home," she repeated, not needing to reassure him that, for once, she wasn't playing around. 

A million things flashed behind his dark eyes; the knowledge that he had no notion of what day it was happened to be a shock in it of itself, though the sudden realization that he had a paper due the next afternoon was even worse. It would be logical for him to take Ashley's advice. He needed to rest, even if only for a hour before he moved on to finish what he had to do. Still, his desperate need for money clawed at the front of his skull in a way that he couldn't ignore; hadn't been able to for years. 

So, instead, he shook his head, replacing his cotton boxers with the lace, not daring to meet those hazel eyes once again. He knew he would crack all too easily if he did. "Can you just tell him I'm here? You know he won't tell me to leave - he always needs more dancers, it makes him more money."

A sigh sounded out, and there was the slightest of hesitations before Ashley's heels could be heard against the floor once more, reminding Calum that maybe he had the best friend he could.


	2. the moonshine you breathe in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy malum monday!  
> i've decided that updates will be every monday - unless something happens to go wrong and mix up my schedule  
> so this is unedited because i wanted to have it up in time, but the others should be edited  
> thank you all for the support so far, i'm really excited about this project  
> it's going to be a long one, and i have no intention of rushing it out, so i hope you're buckled up for the long road ahead, my friends

It wasn’t until Calum stepped foot into the security of his flat that he was able to come back into himself once more. For the most part, he wished he hadn’t at all, for he felt the same way as each long night of work prior. He felt, in the simplest of terms, soiled; dirty; used. He felt like he’s simply done. Done with going through the process of blinding lights and deafening music. If he was allowed, he’d no doubt drink himself into the nearest hospital during his work hours, just so that he could forget everything and anything. 

There was nothing, he decided all too many weeks ago, that there was nothing that he detested more than the noise of foreign voices calling out for him; the sight of faces twisted with sick pleasures of watching him flaunt just about everything that he had, none of which was a secret; the frenzied thoughts that raced through his head and smacked against the interior of his skull each time he joined a customer in a backroom for if only an hour for just the promise of a few wrinkled bills. 

By now, perhaps, he should have become used to it – numb to it all, after all. He had only ever spoken to Ashley about his issue – though they had come to refer to it as his complex after several conversations on the matter – to which he had received only sympathy and no advice. The tawny boy hadn’t really been expecting an outcome of an epiphany, but it didn’t mean that he couldn’t find himself evermore frustrated with the vicious cycle. Day in and day out, it was like he was caught in a rut of going from one of his classes to his shift at the restaurant, only to spend his nights dancing and the mere hours before dawn trying to recover or fill holes to make out due work for class. 

Even his apartment provided minimal relief, as the space was more of an empty space for him to linger than a residence. The walls were dull, painted with a thin layer of pale blue that had since turned to look closer to a shade of gray. His furniture was equally as pitiful, his living room holding only a beat-up couch and a lawn chair, both of which Ashley had made him pick up off a curb when he drove her home one night because “You need something in that place of yours! It’d depressing to go over there.” Frankly, he thought it was less gloomy when it was empty, but he had complied nonetheless when his best friend had helped him load the treasures into the backseat along with a promise that she would help him lug it all up to his flat on the second floor of the complex. 

So, when he stood in the landing of his flat, his back pressed against his thin door, his eyes locked on the torn couch. The memory provided him the energy to stand on his own and venture further inside. The previous several hours were hardly more than a blur of bass lines and the image of some unknown man with money gripped tightly in his fist, his knuckles white and unusually pointy. Calum couldn’t say how old the man had been, perhaps twice his own age, if that young. The dark boy had seen a lot, done a lot, in his few years of life. He was twenty-two and had felt pain, witnessed plenty he wished he could unsee, and heard too much. Still, nothing quite made him feel the same as when his boss told him to meet a client in a private room for a dance, only to waltz in and find an intimidating figure who could be old enough to be his father, sitting pretty with a bulge forming in their pants and a particular glint in their eyes. It was times like that when Calum could only thank whatever force he wasn’t sure existed that the club had a strict “no touch” rule. It was demeaning enough, in his opinion, to have the men watch him, but the very thought be their hands on him might be enough to make him gag. 

Sure, he supposed, there were plenty of dancers that didn’t mind or liked their way of living. Perhaps, Calum supposed, he would like it if it was the career for him. But it wasn’t, nor was waiting tables. Honestly, he wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted from life or for him future, but he was nearly positive that he was never going to find out if he didn’t get out of the hold he had dug for himself years prior. 

The present, though, maintained his focus over the past or present, and Calum forced himself away from the door, his feet carrying his tired body into his cramped kitchen in search of some sort of dinner. He had gathered enough money throughout the night to pay his rent for the next month or two with just a little bit to spare. Fortunately, his gig waiting tables could be far worse, and more often than not he was able to make more than enough to buy whatever else he needed from his tip money without much of a hassle. Everything that he didn’t spend by the end of the week would be stashed away into the bank. Sure, it wouldn’t be there long enough to gather dust so long as he continued his university adventures, but living day by day was something he had grown accustomed to; he knew others were far worse off than he was – at least he had a roof over his head, even if it leaked from time to time. 

His mother had once said when he was younger that he was a survivor after he ran to her with a pair of scraped elbows and knees, tears streaming down his pudgy cheeks. “Oh, Cal, don’t cry baby,” she had cooed gently into his ear when she pulled him close to her chest. Even years later, he could still recall how she had rocked him from side to side to settle him down. “You’ll be just fine, my boy, you’re a survivor.”

Maybe it wasn’t living, but he’d take survival over his alternatives. At least for now.

____

The next day started off more exciting than Calum would have liked, all things considered. He had fallen asleep around five in the morning with his nose buried – quite literally- in one of his literature textbooks, and soft snores fell from his lips until about 8:45 when his phone vibrated harshly beside him. The sudden movement jarred him into awareness, and mocha-colored eyes searched the empty air for the culprit, only to land on his beaten piece of technology. The screen was alight with seven texts from Ashley, the sight bringing several loud curses from his lips.

**From: Ashley**  
_did you forget we work the same shift?_  
**From: Ashley**  
_don’t tell me you didn’t set an alarm asshole you can’t be late again_  
**From: Ashley**  
_boss asked where you are_  
**From: Ashley**  
_wake the fuck up sleeping beauty not sure how long i can cover for you_

The string of texts went on and on, and before he had finished reading them all, Calum was out of his chair, texting Ashley quickly to say he’d be there in five minutes and to have the back door open so that he could slip in unnoticed. 

Four and a half minutes later found Calum getting out of his car while tugging the key out at the same time. The jerking motion caused him, however, to lose his balance, and he hit quite directly into the chest of someone else who had been getting out the car beside his own. Suddenly he was aware of the trio who had pulled up just about the same as he had. A high-pitched giggle and deep voice mingled and thumped against his eardrums from the other side of the stranger’s car. The third was the same young man Calum had collided with, and almost immediately he was sputtering out apologies. “Fuck, I’m sorry – I mean, I’m sorry, shit – I didn’t mean to do that –“

He was broken off the third’s laugh, rich and smooth; completely soothing to even Calum’s fragile nerves and high level of excitement. “No, it’s fine; don’t worry about it,” the man murmured softly, his hand resting on Calum’s elbow softly, having kept him from collapsing onto the ground. A spark of amusement lit his green eyes, though the young waiter had no time for common chatter.

“I’m really sorry, again, but I’m also really late,” he exhaled before removing himself completely from the gentle touch and all but sprinting toward the back entrance of the restaurant where he knew Ashley would have opened the door if she wasn’t waiting there herself.

Really, it was impossible for Calum to not love Ashley; she was his best friend, though that was as far as their love went. He had met her through the strip club when he had joined and she had appointed herself as the “new kid’s mentor” of sorts. Only a few weeks after that she had mentioned that she had been laid off from her side job and was in need of a new one. Calum, of course, took it upon himself to do everything in his power as a dishwasher at the time to help her get the open spot as a waitress. Ever since she had been hired, they had been joined at the hip in a way the darker boy had never been with anyone else. 

Sure enough, just as Calum reached the door, it was opened for him to reveal his friend’s beaming face. “There he is, as punctual as ever,” she greeted teasingly, stepping aside and handing him a notepad and apron as he entered. 

“Boss?” he questioned in return as his own greeting, tying the black fabric deftly around his waist, quickly checking to make sure he had everything he would need for his shift and tucking the notepad into the front pocket. 

Ashley laughed breezily, waving her hand dismissively. “He left right before you texted me – something about being hungry but not wanting to eat anything here. I already clocked you in, you’re fine,” she reassured, patting him swiftly on the back. “Now go get out there, champ, the masses are waiting for you.” 

Just like that, she was gone, leaving him to shake his head slightly at her antics; the girl was like a whirlwind, so to say. 

It took only a brief moment for him to compose himself before he dared to put himself out there. A quick scan of the tables showed that the morning was a slow one, only a few couples and trios littered about. The restaurant was small, especially in the morning and early afternoon when a section was divided off for a more intimate, cozy-diner sort of feeling, reinforced by the light sound of chatter and low din of a local radio station playing from a speaker near the kitchen. 

Calum heard a faintly-familiar giggle before he saw who uttered it. A boy with honey-colored hair and stubble grazing over his chin pushed open the front door, leading in a taller blonde and the same boy that Calum had collided with. He paid little mind to the three, only going over to them after they appeared to have settled into a table within a section, their conversation animated and vivid though he couldn’t make out more than a few words and syllables.

As soon as he approached the table and looked properly at the trio he was serving, he was met immediately with green eyes, bleached blonde hair, and an eyebrow piercing. Calum was probably anything but subtle with his fixation before he tore his gaze away, opting to focus on the pair seated opposite his previous savior. They were seated closely together despite occupying two different seats, and though he couldn’t seat for certain because of the table cloth, the position of their arms alluded to the possibility that they were holding hands under the table like a pair of high school sweethearts. 

He handed out the menus quickly and took their orders for drinks, thankful that his voice was steady though he was well-aware of green eyes watching his every move and making his heart pound against the inside of his ribcage as if he was back in middle school with his first legitimate crush daring to pass a glance in his general direction. 

Therefore, it was no real surprise that when he returned to the kitchen and faced Ashley, his friend shot him and odd look before she burst out laughing, reaching forward to pinch at his defenseless cheek. “Cal, you’re blushing.”

He paid her little mind, though, swatting her after with a roll of his eyes before mumbling about how he was in _desperate_ need of two waters and a hot tea before he grew too old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come be my friend on tumblr: hoodislame.tumblr.com
> 
> all errors are my own

**Author's Note:**

> follow my new 5sos tumblr: hoodislame.tumblr.com


End file.
